Distance
by artemis-nz
Summary: Yuuri feels as though he is being pushed away, and unwittingly makes a choice. Conrad/Yuuri.
1. Chapter 1

It was his eyes that swayed him. They looked at him, really _saw_ him, warm and golden-brown and knowing, and Yuuri could not help but stare.

They were Conrad's eyes, almost, just a shade or two off, and they promised things rather than denied them. There was no too-calm smile there, no false upturning of the mouth that Yuuri had become so used to, and so frustrated by. Conrad's smile always said _close, but no closer._ This man's expression read _close, but not close enough_, and Yuuri found himself being drawn in by it.

It had hurt, being pushed away, and Yuuri had been too shy and too inexperienced to ask for what he really wanted – had not wanted to sacrifice his friendship with Conrad by asking for more. And perhaps, Yuuri admitted to himself, Conrad had simply never thought of him that way to begin with.

Yuuri blinked, the noises of the tavern awaking him from his reverie. What had he just been thinking about again? Something about Conrad.

_Conrad_. Right. Yuuri turned his head, saw Conrad walk quietly back into the room from where he had been seeing to the horses. The man saw him looking, caught a glimpse of the trepidation in Yuuri's face.

"Tonight?" he asked, and Yuuri's eyes widened. Conrad was nearly back at the table where he was sitting, and the man quickly put his head down, speaking softly. "After dark. Just to talk. I'll be waiting outside."

Yuuri did not get a chance to answer, for Conrad was now only a step or two away, and without looking back, the nameless man was retreating, leaving Yuuri alone once more.

"Heika?"

"Hm?" He found himself avoiding Conrad's gaze. Guilt gnawed at him, along with a desperate hope. Hope that when he met Conrad's eyes next, they would look at him in the way he wanted to be looked at. A gaze with no distance, no invisible barrier between the two of them.

"Is everything alright?"

He forced himself to look. But Conrad's eyes were the same as ever, and something inside Yuuri sagged in disappointment. It seemed that Conrad would never try to get beyond that barrier. He would never allow Yuuri to move past it, holding Yuuri at arm's length with words like _proper_ and _appropriate_. And _Heika_. Always Heika, unless Yuuri reminded him otherwise. Yuuri was so tired of reminding.

Yuuri smiled, and nodded, and wondered if his smile mirrored Conrad's in its emptiness.

"Everything's fine."

But if everything was fine, Yuuri would not be here like this, hours later, lying in bed and listening, and wondering if Conrad was asleep yet. Wondering if this meant he had given up on waiting.

But outside, the night was breathing, waiting for something else entirely. Yuuri breathed with it, and made an effort to slow the beat of his heart – nervousness gripped him, but he could not put the conversation from his mind.

He shouldn't do this. Shouldn't betray Conrad's trust in him, act so carelessly, make him worry. But he couldn't wait forever, either, to be pinned down always by the tenuous hope that maybe, some day, Conrad would see him as something other than a child, or still more painfully, a duty.

The thought of that last was enough. The wooden floor was cold as he slipped, ghost-like, from the bed, but his body felt strangely warm. He moved slowly, taking care to keep his breath even. _Just to the bathroom_, Yuuri thought to himself, and knowing that he would never get there. The stairs lay before it, and beyond them, a promise of something more.

He turned to stare at Conrad before the door closed again behind him, feeling as though he were being split in two. If Conrad woke now and questioned Yuuri, the boy knew he would tell Conrad everything. He would admit how reckless he was being, ask Conrad's forgiveness, and then… and then Conrad would finally realise how he felt, take Yuuri by the hand and tilt his head up and…

No. And then tomorrow they would ride back to the castle as though nothing had happened at all, because that was who Conrad was, and the fact that Yuuri loved him would not change anything. And Yuuri would tell him anyway.

But Conrad did not wake, did not make so much as a single movement as a full minute dragged by. There was a soft click as Yuuri eased the door shut.

There was pain, ebbing and flowing with each step further away he took, but now he allowed curiosity and an inexplicable sense of excitement to take over, burying the darker emotions beneath the surface. _Just to talk_. He could not have explained to anyone why he felt a thrill of anticipation run through him when he thought about who he was meeting. The man had been handsome, yes, but it was not as though Yuuri was unused to being surrounded by others of extraordinary looks – one only had to take one glance back at the castle to recognise that Yuuri was like a common blackbird surrounded by birds of paradise. And even so, it was not as though a striking face made just talking to someone any more or less appealing. Nonetheless, Yuuri felt something course through him – something heated, that made his palms slightly damp and the tips of his hair to cling to his forehead. He had not experienced this feeling before, but whatever it was, it intoxicated him.

The stairs creaked, but nobody was about. The light was still on downstairs, and Yuuri registered a clattering from elsewhere close by – the kitchen at the back, maybe, where only those who worked here would be. But the tavern was closed for the night, the tables wiped clean and only the upstairs bedrooms occupied by drowsing guests.

When Yuuri stepped outside, the air prickling on his bare skin where the shirt sleeves stopped just above his elbows, he thought nobody was there. Biting back disappointment, he decided he had come too late, or else simply been given up on. The man had decided he did not want to talk after all, Yuuri was not interesting enough, there was nothing about him to attract-

"Here at last. I thought you might have changed your mind."

"Oh!" He had emerged seemingly from nowhere, this mysterious person with eyes so like (and yet so blessedly unlike), Conrad's. "No, I just… it took me a while to…"

"Ah. Under someone else's keen watch, perhaps?"

Reluctantly, Yuuri nodded. "I guess. He's asleep now. He wouldn't have… I mean, he would've… I just needed to get out."

The man's face was the very picture of sympathetic understanding. "Of course. We all have our own problems, our own struggles. But forgive me, I'm being rude. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kasimir."

"I'm… ah…"

His discomfit obvious, Kasimir interrupted before Yuuri could stutter further. "No need to say if you don't want to. Honest, I won't be offended. In fact, it just intrigues me further."

"It does?"

Kasimir grinned at Yuuri's astonished tone. His teeth were white and even. "Don't tell me you've never had people curious about you before, with that face. I'm surprised you don't have men and women both clawing themselves over you as we speak."

Yuuri felt his face heat up, a heady mixture of pleasure and embarrassment sweeping over him. "It's not like that", he managed to get out.

"No? Then I'm doubly glad we have this opportunity to talk."

Before he had the time to become any more self-conscious, Kasimir had taken Yuuri by the hand, gently tugging him to follow.  
"Huh? W-wait, where are we going? I thought-"

"Just to talk, right? Relax, we won't go far. But we wouldn't want to wake anyone inside, would we? It's hot out, so most of the windows will be open. The sound will carry."

"Yes, but-"

"Come on, this way. Just a bit further so we don't bother anyone."

Yuuri allowed himself to be led by the softly coaxing voice, the large hand enclosing his, but looking back, seeing the tavern get further and further away… he was sure Kasimir wasn't leading him anywhere dangerous, but still, Conrad was...

"Um, can we stop here? Sorry, it's just… I'd rather not…"

To his relief, Kasimir stopped. "No problem, I understand. Look, see that little clearing over there? We can sit down for a bit if you like."  
Yuuri was guided to the spot, less a clearing than a space between where several large trees grew huddled together. Kasimir leaned back against one of them casually, observing as Yuuri did the same.

"Shy one, aren't you?" he commented, watching as Yuuri tried to find a comfortable position, his eyes cast down to the ground.

"No… not usually. It's just, you remind me of someone."

"Oh? Someone good, I hope?"

Yuuri was about to reply when he felt fingers on his arm, running up to his shoulder and then cupping his face, making him look up.

"Wha-"

And suddenly Kasimir's lips were covering his own, sending an unexpected thrill down his back even as Yuuri backed away in shock.

"I thought- you said-"

"I know. I'm sorry. But please, a moment only, just let me-" He kissed Yuuri again, this time harder, not quite so gentle. Still in a state of disbelief, Yuuri let him, and even as Kasimir lips, his tongue, were alien and a little frightening to him, another part of his mind was detachedly looking on, cataloguing the feelings as they appeared. Noting the way his limbs were trembling slightly, the way his mouth tingled and his chin tilted instinctively upward. Fingers were seeking out his own now, tangling together, pressing insistently against his and pushing his hands back against the bark of the tree. Kasimir groaned something, and then Yuuri's thighs were being pushed apart by-

"Wait!" Yuuri broke away with a gasp, Kasimir angling his head down to kiss Yuuri's jaw instead as though Yuuri hadn't said anything at all. Concern broke through the numerous other sensations. "Wait, I don't want-"

"No need to be coy with me." Kasimir spoke as if Yuuri were pretending, putting on a show of hard-to-get, and Yuuri began to struggle.

"Let go!"

"Calm down, it's not as if you didn't know-"

Yuuri would have yelled if Kasimir's mouth hadn't claimed his again, cutting off his protest and bearing down with almost bruising force. Unable to free his hands, Yuuri panicked. As Kasimir's head inclined slightly, he did the only thing he could think of and bit down, hard.

"You little-!"

"Let go of me!" Yuuri surged forwards, attempting to offset Kasimir's balance, but the grip on his wrists only grew tighter. He yelped as he was jerked roughly into Kasimir's arms and shoved unceremoniously to the ground, opening his mouth to scream for help only to realise that the wind had been knocked from his chest. Silently gasping for air, Yuuri could only instinctively thrash as fear took over completely. His movements were swiftly smothered when Kasimir used his own body weight to trap Yuuri on his back, crushing him. Kasimir's lower lip was bleeding.

"I was going to take it slow, but it seems you have other ideas."

Hands were at his collar, wrenching his shirt down and renting the material, Kasimir's voice sounding vehemently in his ears. Yuuri bent his knee, pushing upwards as hard as he could, but there was no room to land any real impact. He received a slap across the face for his efforts, and then his legs were being forced apart by a knee.

Yuuri took a breath, pushing past the rawness of his throat, and screamed. The sound tore out of him, ragged and desperate, even as knuckles connected harshly with his cheek.

"Be quiet!"

"Let go of me, let _go-!_"

Teeth grazing at his neck, hands hard and vicious at his shoulders. Unable to focus, knowing his Maou-form to be out of reach, Yuuri aimed another kick, this time connecting more solidly.

Kasimir grunted. "You'll pay for that, you-" His words twisted into a sudden shriek of pain, and Yuuri found his body abruptly freed. Clumsily, dizzy and reeling with nerves, he shoved himself to his knees, then heaved himself upright and prepared to flee.

The sight of someone forcing Kasimir to the ground and drawing a dagger to his neck stopped him.

It stopped Kasimir too, the point of cold steel pressing to his flesh.

"-alright, alright, I didn't hurt him, just having a bit of fun-"

His head was lifted, then slammed unhesitatingly into the ground. The voice that came from the rescuer's mouth was Conrad's, but Yuuri barely recognised it, feral with something far beyond anger. "I am going to kill you."

Kasimir blinked, disorientated, his reponse sluggish. "I won't do it again, I swear-"

"No. You won't." Conrad's grip on the hilt of the knife looked painfully tight. His hand shook.

Kasimir gasped in alarm. "Please, I swear it, just let me go!"

Conrad didn't answer, and Kasimir fell silent. In the hush that followed, Yuuri could make out the panting from all three of them, their different messages. Fear. Rage. Yuuri's own breath came in tattered gasps, almost sobbing in shame and relief. Conrad turned his head at the sound, and his grip loosened slightly.

"Yuuri. Did this man do anything to you?" It was all too clear what he meant. Conrad's tone terrified him.

There was another loaded silence. Slowly, Yuuri shook his head. "No", he whispered. "Please don't kill him, Conrad."

The soldier turned back to his captive. The knife stayed where it was, Conrad's voice so low that Yuuri could barely make out the words, deliberate as each of them were.

"If you… ever think about touching him again. If I even catch sight of you, wherever you are, whatever you're doing… I will kill you. It will not be quick."

Nobody moved for a long moment as Conrad stared into Kasimir's eyes, driving the message home. The knife was steady now, waiting. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." Kasimir's affirmation came as a single trembling word, and Conrad moved his hand back.

"Leave. Now."

Kasimir bolted as soon as Conrad lifted himself into a crouch. A crackling of branches heralded his flight, before quiet eventually settled back over the clearing. And then Conrad's gaze was levelled at him. Yuuri's knees buckled under him as he covered his face with his hands. He wouldn't look at Conrad. His face stung. He wanted to disappear.

A soft crunching of leaves, the air shifting as Conrad knelt in front of him.

"Yuuri."

Wildly, Yuuri shook his head. He did not want to hear this – could not bear the thought of Conrad's anger directed at him.

"Yuuri, you're bleeding."

The softness of Conrad's voice, however forced, undid him. "It's not my blood", he said, a note of hysteria creeping in. Conrad's eyes scanned the trickle of blood below his lips, fingers moving to examine the swollen skin beneath his right eye. Yuuri flinched away, and something in him finally broke.

"Don't touch-" he managed to choke out, and then Conrad was holding him anyway, and he didn't have the strength to push away. Self-contempt stabbed at him. Helplessly, Yuuri wept.

* * *

_Just a random idea I had when I woke up this morning. I will probably be continuing this, although as I have no idea what's going to happen next, the second chapter may be a while away._


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri remembered very little about the return walk to the tavern. Mutely, he followed behind Conrad and stared ahead at his back, straight and unyielding, wondering if he'd ever be able to look at Conrad again without seeing anger reflected back at him. He knew he would not blame Conrad if this was so.

Already though, the events of the past few minutes were becoming surreal – like they had happened to someone else, or else had occurred in a dream. _It's shock_, he thought to himself. _You are not yourself yet._ But he didn't know if he'd ever be himself again – didn't know if he even wanted to. A numbness was flooding his body, and it was as though his limbs were moving of someone else's accord, while his spirit floated along somewhere beside him and watched all that was going on with a kind of frozen detachment.

The tavern seemed incredibly bright to Yuuri when he entered the building again, although nothing had changed since he had left – the downstairs light still glowed, and subdued noises continued to drift from beyond the main room. He trailed Conrad up the stairs, still silent, keeping his head down when Conrad opened the door and waited for him to go through first. Conrad had not said a word since Yuuri's outburst – perhaps he did not trust himself to speak without yelling. Yuuri sat on the bed while Conrad rummaged through a travelling pack, quickly finding what he was looking for. Turning back to Yuuri, he held a small cloth and a jar of something in his hands.

"Heika. I'm going to take a look at those bruises now."

Back to Heika again, then. Yuuri could not bring himself to care too much about this, since it seemed that the only times Conrad was comfortable calling him by his name was when his life was being threatened. In hindsight, that was probably a fairly obvious sign that Conrad had no wish to draw any closer; no doubt one of many signs that Yuuri had missed.

Conrad looked like he was waiting for his permission, so Yuuri simply nodded. He sat stone still, hardly daring to breathe, as Conrad knelt in front of him and examined his face in proper light. Yuuri was glad that there were no mirrors about, especially when Conrad held Yuuri gently in place while he wiped what Yuuri supposed was dried blood from his chin. There was no physical pain, but he made a concentrated effort not to jerk away when Conrad next opened the jar and began rubbing some sort of ointment onto and around the bruise. Yuuri stared past him at the wall.

"Is it bad?" he made himself ask.

Conrad shook his head. "It's not large, but it will grow darker over the next few hours and probably swell a little." Conrad's voice was too calm, too neutral. Was he actually seething still, his rage carefully kept in check, to simmer beneath the surface? Did he really want to just leave and have nothing more to do with Yuuri or his wellbeing? But there was no way that Yuuri could ask these questions, too afraid of what the answers would be if Conrad were honest with him.

"I need to see under your shirt."

"No." Yuuri's reply was instantaneous, the word coming out before he realised he had thought or spoken it.

"Heika, there will be other bruises from where you fell. They need to be taken care of."

"They're nothing. I don't even feel them." It was true. Yuuri could not tell where the bruises were, if there were any. The only strong physical sensation he felt at all were his eyes, dry and itchy. He just wanted to lie down.

"Heika…"

"I'll do it myself. Tomorrow."

"… Very well." Conrad looked like he wanted to argue, but maybe he had just had enough. Like Yuuri, he probably wanted only to rest, so that the night would pass quickly and they could be on their way as soon as possible. Leave and never come back. Conrad got up, screwing the lid back on the jar and putting it back in his pack.

"We'll leave first thing", he said.

Yuuri did not say anything.

* * *

He woke, or came back into awareness, to the sounds of Conrad readying himself for the morning. Yuuri guessed that Conrad had not slept, although it was only from the set of the soldier's shoulders, the slightly drawn look of his features, that gave him away. Yuuri himself had snatched a few moments of rest just before the dawn, and still felt dully tired.

Conrad glanced over, seeing that he was awake. "We still have a little time, but you should dress while I see to things downstairs."

"Alright." Yuuri scrambled out of bed as soon as Conrad was gone. One of his shoulders now felt raw and throbbing, but he ignored it, looking through his own pack for his second shirt. He would not wear the ripped one. Not ever again, if he could help it. In the washroom, he splashed cold water on his face, more in the hope that he would feel somehow cleaner than that it would shake him back into a sharper alertness. It did neither, and he made his way back into the room with feet that seemed heavier with each step.

Conrad was already waiting for him. "There's food downstairs for us."

"I'm not hungry."

"You should eat, Heika."

"I will. Later."

Conrad looked at him searchingly. Wondering how far he should push.

"… I think you should eat now", he said finally. "Even just a little is fine. After that we'll go."

But the food stuck in Yuuri's throat, and after forcibly choking down a few mouthfuls of the breakfast that had been laid out for them, he could only push the food around on his plate. Perhaps he had gone suddenly white, because Conrad got up to get him a glass of water without a word, and pointedly watched as Yuuri drank all of it.

"Ready?"

"Very." Yuuri supposed he should resign himself to one-worded conversations with Conrad from now on. He did not feel like talking, and Conrad did not encourage him to do so, but it was clear that Conrad bitterly regretted taking Yuuri with him on this venture. At the time, Yuuri had seen it as an opportunity – fantasies had filled his head: that Conrad had finally realised the depth of Yuuri's feelings for him, that Conrad would reciprocate in kind and was using the trip as an excuse to do so, that they would travel back to Blood Pledge Castle together with a newfound sense of devotion for each other. Looking back, that all seemed naïve and even foolish – Conrad had simply been being Conrad. Kindly doing his best to distract Yuuri from the uncompromising boredom of paperwork, by way of what was meant to be a harmless foray into a town within the kingdom's borders. Yuuri was suddenly relieved that he had not been given the chance to confess. Being turned down with another of Conrad's polite smiles, concerned pity in his eyes, would have been nearly as bad as what had actually happened.

The horses were waiting for them, already freshly saddled and set to carry their riders home, no doubt at Conrad's efficient arrangements. Conrad led them both outside after carefully attaching their packs, and nodded to Yuuri.

"Let's go. Depending on how things work out, we'll probably get back by late afternoon."

They rode. Conrad alternately walked and trotted the horses in silence, Yuuri following suit. Always, Conrad kept just ahead and to the left of him, never quite looking at straight in the face. Yuuri found he didn't mind this; was grateful for it in fact, since it meant he never had to catch a glimpse of Conrad's eyes even accidentally. It wasn't, he decided around mid-morning, that he was afraid of looking at Conrad, exactly, but rather that he himself did not want to be looked at. The bruise under his eye had indeed swollen during the night, and Yuuri guessed it had also grown darker just as Conrad had said it would. Yuuri hated it. The pain, such as it was, did not bother him, but the mark itself felt like a brand – a sign of proof to the world of what he had done. As ridiculous as it would have sounded if he said it out loud, Yuuri felt that upon catching first glimpse at it, absolutely everyone would know how it had came to be there, and who was at fault for it. So he turned his face away from those they passed while on the roadside, and was relieved when the roads stayed empty, or when Conrad led them through less public terrain.

Their journey, uninterrupted other than when Conrad insisted on stopping to rest, passed by more quickly than Yuuri had thought it would. They had paused twice during the course of their travels back, and Yuuri saw that Conrad had been correct – they arrived at the main road leading up to the castle before evening had set in, quicker by perhaps an hour than it had taken on their travel outward.

"Conrad."

Yuuri had not intended to speak – the word had just ejected from his mouth as if it had been sitting there quietly in his chest, waiting for its opportunity to launch itself out. Conrad turned immediately in his saddle, and for the first time that day, they gazed directly at each other. Yuuri saw no anger in Conrad's eyes, but only a heavy knowledge of something that Yuuri could not name. He had no idea what Conrad saw in return. Something of the same, maybe.

"Yes?"

"I was- there's something-"

Conrad waited patiently, holding his horse still.

"How did you know I was in trouble?" he finally blurted out.

"I heard", said Conrad simply.

"But, you-"

"-I was never asleep."

Another wave of mortification swept over him. That meant Conrad… that all along, he had known Yuuri was going somewhere… had not tried to stop him…

"_Why?_"

Conrad seemed to understand what Yuuri meant. "My job is to protect you, Yuuri. Heika. You are not my prisoner."

Yuuri wanted to vanish off the face of the earth. "You trusted me", he breathed.

"I wanted you to make your own decisions."

And now it was Conrad who was staring past Yuuri, seemingly unable to look him straight in the face.

Ahead of them, the castle entrance loomed.

Gunter gave a shriek at seeing Conrad and Yuuri back a full day earlier than expected, with things very evidently not as they should be. Predictably, Wolfram came running.

"Conrart, what… what is this, what's happened-"

"Not now. I need to speak with Gwendal first."

"But Yuuri-Heika is… Conrart, explain this to me!"

"I said not now!" Conrad very rarely raised his voice, and Yuuri had never heard him do so to Gunter before. He shrank at the sound, but it was nothing compared to when Wolfram arrived on the scene.

He did not shout so much as bellow at the both of them, interrogating them and becoming louder and louder the more Yuuri refused to speak. Yuuri was no longer sure whether he was capable of speech at all – his final conversation with Conrad seemed to have blocked his voice somehow. He felt oddly cut off from everything, his voice just one more thing to add to the growing list of things that were no longer functioning properly. The room swayed vaguely about him.

"Wolfram. Shut up." It was Gwendal, and even though Wolfram had by now worked himself into a state of exasperated fury, Gwendal quietened everyone and everything with one swift glance. The commander took it all in with one narrowed glare – Conrad's now barely contained composure, Yuuri's state of half-dazedness, Gunter's unmistakable distress, Wolfram's obvious anger. He barked out several commands that nobody quite dared disobey: "Wolfram, take Yuuri with you and find Gisela right away. Do whatever she instructs, and that includes leaving if she wants to speak with Yuuri alone. Conrart, accompany me to my office. Gunter. After you've managed to calm yourself down, I will speak with you as soon as I am able. Everyone else-", and here Gwendal raised his voice so that any passersby, both visible and hidden, would hear him, "-should go about their business. Anyone who disturbs me will be facing my… extreme displeasure."

Formidable even at his most congenial, people scrambled to follow Gwendal's orders to the letter. Yuuri found himself being unceremoniously dragged off by Wolfram, and although he wanted above all to be left alone, he did not envy Conrad's position in the slightest.

Gisela was brisk, if not unkind. "Please take a seat, Heika. Wolfram, I think it best if you leave Yuuri to me for now." Wolfram did not argue – not after how clear Gwendal had been. He left the room, albeit unwillingly, and Yuuri was left with Gisela. He squirmed under her scrutiny.

"You're hurt", she said, reaching for his face.

Yuuri instinctively leaned back. His voice abruptly came back to protest, as husky as if he had not used it in weeks. "No. It's just a bruise."

"It's not the only one." It was not a question.

"No. But there's nothing else wrong."

Gisela let her hands settle in her lap. "Hmm." She appeared meditative, and not in any particular hurry. Yuuri looked down at the bed. "No…" she said eventually. "Physically, I don't suppose there is anything else wrong. But looking beyond that…"

Yuuri did not know how to answer.

"Have you had anything to bring down the bruising?"

"Conrad…" His name hurt to say. Yuuri swallowed. "Conrad put some ointment on the one on my face."

"Very well. Then please take off your shirt."

Like Gwendal, Gisela was impossible to disobey. Yuuri did as she asked, and he knew he was shaking as Gisela examined the bruise that was spreading over his right shoulder. Her fingers were gentle and she had said nothing to imply that she had made any assumptions, or blamed anyone at all for the marks on Yuuri's body. But if the bruise on Yuuri's cheek was a brand, then he knew with a terrible certainty that the one marring his shoulder was unconditional confirmation.

It was all his fault.

Several minutes and meaningful questions later, Yuuri was dispatched to the bath chambers. It was incomprehensible to Yuuri how Gisela could know so much without having been told anything of the wider situation.

"Rest", she had advised. "It's the best thing for you right now. You probably can't sleep, can you?" Wordlessly, Yuuri had shaken his head. He desperately wanted to, but without even trying, he was aware that sleep would not be within his grasp for a while. Not until his body could absolutely not do without it. Gisela had sized him up expertly, and Yuuri had sensed that she was wondering if she should make him sleep with the aid of a potion. Evidently, she had decided against it, possibly questioning the wisdom of forcing sleep onto someone who was still visibly shaken. "Then a bath might do it", she had reasoned. "At the very least, it will relax your muscles, maybe help with that headache a little." It was a mystery to Yuuri how she had known that as well.

Yuuri passed Conrad on the way there. The castle appeared to have gone into a state of beyond mere quiet – news had spread fast, and the walls practically echoed their silence off each other.

Yuuri took one look at Conrad and scurried onward, burning with shame once again. Conrad had no need to say anything for Yuuri to understand what had taken place in Gwendal's office. It was not necessary for Yuuri to apply his knowledge of Conrad's body language, his facial expressions.

It was small and still spreading, flowering to life just beneath his left eye and not his right.

Otherwise, their bruises matched almost perfectly.

* * *

_Second chapter down - I just sortof typed and let the story go where it wanted to. After a couple of days thought and several very encouraging reviews, I have decided I will be definitely be carrying on this fic until its completion, although I have no idea as yet how many chapters it will be - possibly one or two more, possibly more. I expect my next chapter to be up sometime after Christmas, but if I end up writing anything before that, I will post it up. Thank you for reading. :)_


	3. Chapter 3

The hot water from the baths had made Yuuri's body feel heavy and clumsily slow. The longer-than-usual soak had relaxed his muscles, but the sensation of being physically weighed down stayed with him the rest of the day, making the simplest of tasks seem draining. Too tired to eat even had he felt hungry, Yuuri retired to bed early.

He had not seen Conrad again since passing him in the hall, had only shaken his head wearily at Wolfram's questioning upon returning to his room. He had no energy to spare for arguing, and Wolfram, sensing that he would get nothing out of Yuuri that night and bewildered by Yuuri's silences, settled into bed shortly after. Yuuri could tell Wolfram was worried – despite his surface exasperation, he had not once referred to Yuuri as a wimp and, if the lack of snoring was anything to go by, had lain awake for far longer than was normal. Eventually though, as the minutes turned into hours, the bedchamber filled up with the night-time sounds Yuuri was so familiar with; the rustle of sheets as Wolfram tossed and turned and gradually took up more and more space with outstretched arms and legs as he slept, the intermittent snorts and snores. Every so often, the quiet tramp of booted guards passing through the halls. Yuuri found these sounds oddly calming, although they did nothing to aid him in his rest – even as exhaustion clawed at him, relentlessly demanding his attention, Yuuri could only stare at the ceiling, eyes bone-dry.

Conrad hated him, Yuuri was sure of it. If he hadn't before, he would have no choice but to despise him now. That brother should turn against brother was an idea abominable to Yuuri – yet he had been the direct cause of it. Exactly why Gwendal had lashed out at Conrad, he wasn't sure. Yet whether Gwendal considered it Conrad's fault for not stopping Yuuri before events had been allowed to escalate, or whether he felt that Conrad had not done his best to reach Yuuri in time after the danger had struck, or even whether he blamed Conrad for not sensing the danger earlier and removing Yuuri from it entirely made no real difference now. In reality, Yuuri was fully aware that it had been his own fault for everything that had occurred. Conrad's hate was therefore entirely justified; Gwendal's contempt for Conrad was not. Conrad must have reported what had happened in such a way as to make Gwendal believe that it was his younger brother's fault, or else Gwendal had simply misunderstood – he would never have hit Conrad otherwise.

As for Yuuri's own part in the situation... Gwendal would of course not hit Yuuri like he had Conrad, because the stalwart commander had far too much self-restraint for that. He would devise some alternative kind of punishment, perhaps – something more appropriate given Yuuri's social position. A year's worth of paperwork? No no, too easy by far. Royal detention, then, or incarceration. Exile. Dethronement. Reinstatement of the laws of execution.

As Yuuri waded through these ideas, each of them more horribly fitting than the last, he became fixated on the idea of his sentencing, whatever it was to be. Gwendal was probably taking pity on him, allowing Yuuri a night's peace before announcing his just punishment. But with every passing moment, Yuuri felt the guilt only weighing him down further. He needed to know _now_, before the castle and then the whole world began to grumble at Yuuri's avoidance of his crimes. He needed his shame to be balanced out harshly, fairly, with penalty. He needed only Conrad to hate him again, because if anyone else started hating him as well, Yuuri knew that he would not be able to stand another dawn in this place.

The more Yuuri thought these things, the truer they became, and in the end, Yuuri could not wait – the urge to get up and find Gwendal, to demand immediate condemnation of his actions, became an overpowering one.

As though moving in slow-motion, Yuuri slid like a wraith from the chamber. Wolfram did not stir, only turned over and muttered something as Yuuri crept his way across the room. Yuuri wasn't sure where he would find Gwendal at this time of the night, but it did not particularly bother him; his feet lead him through the door and to the right of their own accord, and the darkness obligingly swallowed up the room behind him so that he could not turn around to go back. The hallways twisted and warped about him, and Yuuri stumbled onwards, as unable to stop walking as he had been to sleep. Still, the constant motion dizzied him, so that it was hardly surprising when he bumped into something soft but altogether solid.

"Who- Conrad!"

"Yuuri." Conrad's face was in shadow, but his voice was unmistakeable.

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't watching where… but Conrad, what are you doing here?" For Yuuri did not recognise this part of the castle at all in the half-darkness, and it seemed strange that he should have found Conrad in such a place purely by coincidence.

"I was waiting for you, Yuuri."

"For… for me? But Conrad, how did you know? And why-"

"Just to talk", Conrad interrupted him, and although these words caused an explainable chord of unease to ripple through him, Yuuri had no chance to chase it down, because Conrad was kissing him. Hungrily, possessively, as though Conrad desired nothing more in the entire world but this, _Conrad_ was kissing _him_, and then his hands were suddenly touching Yuuri somewhere that made Yuuri shudder and melt into his embrace and want more, _more_-

_I've wanted you. I've always wanted you._ Conrad did not speak, exactly, but Yuuri heard his voice resonate around him nonetheless, and he could only hold tightly on as they both toppled backwards.

His fingers dug into Conrad's jacket as they hit the floor. The stone should have been cold beneath them, but it was only pleasantly cool, and when one of Conrad's hands slipped under and upwards, the other under and downwards, at exactly the same time, the floor could have been made of ice for all Yuuri cared.

_Just to talk_, Yuuri heard again. Chest tight, heart thumping obscenely in his ears, Yuuri's eyes closed. There were snakes coiling and uncoiling deliciously in his belly. Dimly, as Conrad leaned down to claim his mouth again, Yuuri answered out loud, "But we're not doing much talking at all."

_Yes we are. Look. _

Yuuri opened his eyes again, and his mouth opened to form a scream. Before his very eyes, the shadow that was Conrad was taking visible shape. Conrad's gaze continued to hold him down, but it was Kasimir's hands that now grasped him. Painfully invasive, they burned at his skin, branding him with a hundred more bruises, a thousand more blue-black smudges of accusation.

_You wanted this. You asked for me._

"I didn't, I didn't ask, let me go!" But this time his voice was vanishing. He was not winded, but his voice was trailing away to nothing, gradually fading with each breath. He was being crushed under the heaviness of the lie, and he knew it was his own fault, of course he did, but did he really deserve _this_?

_Call for him. Call for Conrad, and let's see what he has to say about this. _

The pain was crawling under his skin, to pour throughout his entire body. He didn't want Conrad to see him this way, half-naked and powerlessly thrashing beneath the one person who had incited such fury from the soldier before, he didn't, but-

_Call him, and he'll tell you how he really feels about you._

Another precious breath wasted on an anguished shriek as the weight became too much to bear.

… _him… call him… call him… call… _

A stabbing in his head as the voice grew and echoed. Whether he wanted to call out to Conrad or not, only a desperate, wordless cry left his mouth with the last of his dying breath.

"Get off me, get _off_, let _go_ of me-!"

There was a muffled groan, strangely out of place with the rest of his surroundings, and Yuuri struggled upwards and outwards in a blind flurry of clammy limbs and sweat-soaked hair and eyes wild with panic. Wolfram was yelling something, but in that moment, Yuuri could comprehend only that his shoulders were being held in a vice-like grip.

"LET GO OF ME!"

Magic, raw and potent, answered his terror, and sent Wolfram slamming back against the wall.

* * *

Miraculously, although a little shaken, Wolfram escaped the whole situation without a scratch. When Yuuri woke again the next day, this time alone, to pad silently to his office, he found Gwendal already there. A hush seemed to lie over the castle. As Yuuri saw it, this was a hush of anticipation on his account. Given that he had somehow managed to land both of Gwendal's siblings in trouble, Yuuri was sure that the commander would at least have a few choice words to say to him.

"Good morning, Gwendal", he said, when Gwendal kept his head down and made no move to speak.

"Good morning, Heika." Only the steady scratching of quill against parchment accompanied the return greeting. Gwendal barely looked up after the first polite nod towards him.

Yuuri sat in his accustomed seat and waited for the blow, the explosion of words that would pronounce judgement upon him. And waited. "Um… about last night-", he ventured when he could stand it no longer.

"Yes, I had hoped I could speak to you about that..."

Yuuri held his breath, ready for the inevitable punishment. It was only fitting, he knew, to face the consequences of his actions. Even a king had to face justice, and should be no more exempt from acts of violence than anyone else – indeed, being king made him all the more subject to punishment, since he was meant to stand as an example to his people. There could be no easy way out, and Yuuri prepared himself for the worst. Unwittingly, his slid to the window, where a group of soldiers were running through a series of weapons drills. Conrad, back as straight and correct as ever, lead them in their exercises, his body moving fluidly through the motions. If Yuuri was exiled, would he have the chance to apologise to Conrad first? Would he be able to speak to Conrad one last time, make him say Yuuri's name just once before-

"… on your own from now on."

Yuuri turned on his chair as Gwendal's final words sunk in. "What?" he asked blankly.

Gwendal sighed, and his brow furrowed further at Yuuri's lack of attention. "As I was saying. It may be best if you and Wolfram slept separately from now on. It was lucky that nobody was harmed, but it would be best to avoid any similar incidents. To that end, I suggest that Wolfram be reallocated to his former sleeping chambers."

Yuuri's eyes slid back to the window. "I see", he said, and his tone was bereft of expression.

"If His Majesty approves of the decision, then-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Heika…?"

Yuuri made an effort to sound calm, but the faint tremble in his voice betrayed him. "Gwendal. Just tell me. I have to know."

"Know what, Heika?"

"What my punishment is to be."

"For what?" Gwendal was leaning forward now, puzzled and wary. His quill had stopped in his tracks.

"For hurting Wolfram. And for… for what I did. Before. When Conrad and I… when we were away, and I…"

It hurt too much to speak further, and Gwendal shook his head, stopping him. "You must know that it wasn't your fault", he said.

"It was though. Conrad didn't do anything, it was me who-"

"You are mistaken. It was precisely because Conrad did nothing that you… that the events of that night were permitted to occur. Conrad understands this well. As should you."

"But Conrad was… maybe he didn't know… and I didn't see it either, I know, but by then it was too late and it can't have been Conrad's fault no matter which way you look at it, because I was the one-"

"Yuuri-Heika."

Gwendal was walking over to his desk, and Yuuri stared up at him, biting his lip against the rising tide of distress. "This was not your fault", Gwendal repeated sternly. "Conrad briefed me on what happened, and knows as well as I the folly of his actions. He put you your life in jeopardy, and was foolish enough to let your assailant go after that person… after he _dared_… he turned quickly away, but Yuuri could guess at his expression.

Gwendal took a moment to calm himself, his fingers moving to press against the bridge of his nose before resuming. "Conrad let that man go", he finished, "when he knew very well what he should have done."

Yuuri leapt up, unable to remain silent at Gwendal's swift judgement of Conrad. "But I told him to do that! He asked me, and I _told_ him not to-"

Gwendal abruptly lost his temper. "It makes no difference! Were I in the same position, I would have torn him limb from limb for what he did to you!"

Gwendal's voice rang from the corners of the room as it faded. Without realising it, Yuuri had taken a step backwards, his body tense with fright. Seeing this, Gwendal immediately lowered his voice and made a discernible effort to relax. "I would have killed him", he said steadily. "And then I would have come back here and begged to be removed from office for my extreme lapse in duty of protection."

This last startled Yuuri into agitated response. "Did he?"

Gwendal bit back what he had been about to say, no doubt remembering Yuuri's reaction the last time Conrad's position had been under threat. "… Conrad's punishment has yet to be decided", he carefully replied after a moment.

Wide-eyed, unable to respond, Yuuri backed away again, this time towards the door. He realised it now. Why Gwendal seemed so quick to blame Conrad. Why nobody had already demanded Yuuri's immediate removal from throne and country. God, he had been so _stupid_. For Yuuri's own sake, to save him from the disgrace of what he had done, Conrad had… Conrad hadn't told Gwendal… had made out that he himself held sole responsibility even while knowing that Yuuri had left to meet with someone of his own free will…

Yuuri felt sick. His hand moved to cover his mouth. "I… I don't… this isn't…"

"Heika!" Gwendal's voice was sharp with concern, and Yuuri met his eyes. Practical, reasonable, they steadied him somewhat, bringing reality back to a standstill. Still, Yuuri knew he could not stay here. Not in this room where, only hours earlier, Gwendal had struck Conrad with a blow that should have been reserved for someone else. Would have been, if Conrad had told Gwendal the truth and not taken Yuuri's own punishment upon himself.

The knowledge was enough to make the bile rise in his throat, and Yuuri looked at Gwendal in despair.

"You don't understand", he said, and dropped to the floor to retch up the last of the contents of his stomach.

* * *

_As always, thank you for reading, and I will hopefully be catching up with everyone again during the new year when I post the next chapter. In the meantime, I wish people safe and happy holidays, and a very merry Christmas if you celebrate._


	4. Chapter 4

For Yuuri, the next few days passed in a kind of murky haze. After feeling thoroughly humiliated even when Gwendal had assured him, gruffly but not unkindly, that he was not to blame, Yuuri could not settle to anything.

Just the thought of food made him feel ill, although Yuuri forced himself to eat enough so that he would not cause any more worry or trouble than he already had.

His paperwork he continued to do under Gwendal's silently watchful supervision. Yuuri's gaze wandered constantly to the window, outside of which he would almost always see Conrad at work alongside those under his command. If Gwendal noticed that Yuuri's attention was often elsewhere, he did not reprimand him for it.

Proper sleep, however, was impossible. After two nights of tossing and turning in a bed that was suddenly far too large after years of shared space, Yuuri gave it up, and took to bringing the paperwork that he did not finish during the day to his chambers. He worked during the latest nights or the earliest mornings, or else both, when the darkness seemed at its most lonely, and he caught up on his sleep with a series of catnaps. Castle inhabitants grew used to discovering Yuuri curled up in a private corner of the library, or snoring gently beneath the row of trees that adorned one of the enclosed gardens. Very rarely did Yuuri sleep in his bed even during the day, finding it far easier to rest in more open and sunlit spots.

Occasionally, the safe brightness of it would whisk Yuuri away unplanned, and Yuuri would wake some time later, a little disorientated by the heat, to find that someone had placed a cushion under his head or a pitcher of water on a table nearby. Yuuri always felt somehow embarrassed by this – it meant that he had not quite managed to escape peoples' notice no matter how discreet he thought he had been, and the fact that he never even remembered stirring whenever this occurred compounded his unease. Yuuri had never been comfortable with attracting too much attention – usually went out of his way to avoid what he deemed to be undue notice or fuss. That he was doing so now, at a time when he wished for nothing more than to sink into quiet unobtrusiveness, was yet another slip-up that he felt he must take responsibility for.

The final blow was realised, inevitably, several days later. Yuuri's eyes fluttered open, and he sat up quickly, glad that he hadn't nodded off on top of the pile of freshly inked parchment. A hurried glance at Gwendal told him that the older demon had probably noticed, but was tactfully keeping his mouth shut.

Yuuri cleared his throat nervously. "I'm sorry, Gwendal, I guess I've just been a little tired recently..."

"Just a little?" It wasn't really a question.

Yuuri flushed. "It's just- it's difficult to sleep at night, so I-"

Gwendal looked as though he wished he could take back his words. Quite possibly, Yuuri thought, wincing, Gwendal was recalling what happened the last time Yuuri had gotten upset in his pristine office. "Forgive me, Heika. I hadn't meant to question you. I meant only that you should take care not to push yourself too hard."

_You look terrible._ Yuuri heard the unspoken words, and self-consciously began to shuffle his papers. "I know. I'll be more careful from now on." He would take care not to fall asleep again in Gwendal's presence, at least. In any case, by the movement of the sun, Yuuri calculated he had only been asleep for a few minutes. Far better than it might have been, then. And Gwendal was already scanning something back on his desk, which meant that he couldn't be too worried. Yuuri gave an inward sigh of relief, and reflexively turned his head so that he could see out the window.

The courtyard was completely empty.

Yuuri's breath hitched in his throat, and his hands gave an involuntarily clench. Nonetheless, he took pains to school his features into some sort of composure before turning back to Gwendal.

"Conrad's usually out there this time of day", he mentioned as casually as he was able.

Gwendal was staring at him now, and Yuuri's breathing quickened. He abandoned all pretence of casualness. "Gwendal. Where is Conrad?" he asked.

"I… Heika…"

Yuuri had never seen Gwendal at a loss for words. Without thinking, he slowly stood.

"I thought you knew", Gwendal finally said.

"Tell me." Yuuri's voice sounded strange and steely to his own ears.

Gwendal's stern expression had melted into something almost apprehensive. "Conrart is… Heika, he left this morning, some hours ago."

"What do you mean, left? Left _where_?"

Gwendal shook his head. "I don't know that, Heika. I granted him leave after he requested it, but at this time, his business is his own as long as it does not concern the kingdom."

"Gwendal, how could it not concern me? Why did you let him leave?"

"Because I too felt it was the best choice for now."

"What are you-"

"Conrart did what he thought was right. Heika, I cannot claim to know how to solve everything, but all that I do is intended to be in your best interest!" Pain was etched starkly in the lines on Gwendal's features.

It was this, more than anything else, which broke though Yuuri's distress. "Gwendal, I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Gwendal passed a hand wearily over his face, and Yuuri saw at once the burden the older demon bore, as heavy in its own way as Yuuri's own. "I'm sorry too, Yuuri. For everything that's happened, I'm sorry."

"Please don't say that! It's not your fault, Gwendal."

Gwendal shook his head. "You don't understand", he said, and Yuuri had a sudden sense of distorted déjà vu. "He is my brother."

* * *

Hay was a lot scratchier than it looked.

Coarse and prickly, it itched at Yuuri's hands and wrists, and any other place it could find beneath his uniform. Yuuri did his best to ignore it, since the stables had become his haven ever since the day before, when Gwendal had told him the news. Yet another night without sleep had passed, and Yuuri had all but fled back outside, where the cool dimness of the stables held a promise of rest. They were large enough that he could find a quiet corner out of sight, and just bright enough that it felt safe to close his eyes and simply drift. Best of all, although there was a steady stream of traffic in and out of the building, there was also a distinct lack of gossip.

Yuuri had borne the constant, albeit hushed, chatter of maids and servants since his return to the castle without a word, for the most part because he felt he deserved whatever hardships came his way in the face of what he had done – all the more so if those mistakes went unacknowledged by everyone else.

Yuuri had already known, previous to everything that had occurred recently, that several maids especially were prone to gossip, much of it revolving around him. Had been vaguely embarrassed, but also tolerantly amused, by clandestine betting pools and excited, girlish whispers that had reminded him faintly of home. Now that those same whispers served as a continuous reminder of his own hurtful idiocy, however, there could be no wry amusement in his awareness of castle rumours – only shame.

Yet stablehands and the odd soldier who ventured into the soft gloom of Yuuri's hideout did not seem predisposed to chatter. Rather they talked, quietly and efficiently, about things so far removed from the intrigues of court that Yuuri found himself relaxing almost without thought when he heard them – which horse was being turned out for the season because of a lame foot and which stallion was causing trouble with the mares and when the order of new tack would arrive from the village and whether or not Snowfire would be coaxed to breed with Sooty… the names and unfamiliar terms washed softly over Yuuri, soothingly irrelevant.

And still the long hot weather continued, making Yuuri all the more thankful for his hiding place behind the stacks of hay that would not be moved until next season. He took care not to give it away, checking to make sure that nobody was following after him and taking different routes each time after completing his chores of kingship indoors.

Sometime on the fourth day of his self-imposed isolation, he woke after another of his short bursts of sleep to hear nothing at all other than the faint noises of the world outside. Birds and cicadas and the distant voices of the everyday found their way to his ears, yet the stable itself was strangely devoid of human sound besides his own breathing. Warily, he raised his head to listen more carefully, the hay rustling underneath him at the movement.

"Awake now, Heika?"

Yuuri instinctively froze, then sighed as his still sleep-addled mind caught up to his senses. The question had been neither unfriendly nor confrontational, and Yuuri sat up fully, his head emerging from where it had concealed. Josak was slowly and methodically oiling some horse leathers – a whole pile of them, saddles and bridles both – sitting beside him. He was not facing Yuuri.

"How did you know I was here?"

Josak shrugged, not pausing in his task. "It's been my job to know these things for so long that now I just know them without thinking about it", he explained.

"Oh." Yuuri thought about this, and watched the movement of Josak's shoulders as the redhead worked. Quiet descended again. "Was there something you wanted?" Yuuri asked eventually when Josak made no move to look at him or speak again.

"Not really. Some company, if you've a mind to help out here. But you can go back to sleep if you'd rather. I'll not be disturbing you – or telling anyone else you're here." Josak did turn then, briefly, to share a cheerfully conspiratorial wink, before casting his eye back to his job at hand.

"No, I'm awake now, I'll help." The steady progression of rag against dry leather was oddly calming, in its own way, and in any case, it was not in Yuuri's nature to look on as someone else was working right in front of him. Yuuri scrambled up, brushing stray wisps of hay from hair and clothing as he made his way over the top of the bales to where Josak was sitting, just inside the shade of the overhanging roof.

"Which one?"

"Any you like, Heika."

Yuuri looked down at his feet. "I'll only help if you promise not to call me that."

To his credit, Josak didn't question him. "Deal", he said, and stopped for a moment to indicate the pile of leathers. "Go ahead, there's not really a right or wrong way of doing this. Just grab that rag over there and dip it into the oil – you'll see there's no great trick to it."

Yuuri quickly saw that Josak was right. His muscles were aching satisfyingly after a few minutes of rubbing, copying Josak's way of moving the rag in small outward circles from the edges of the leather. It was not difficult work, although Yuuri, who had not done any real physical activity for a while, found himself growing tired quickly. The sensation was not unpleasant – stirred up a vague contentment after so much inactivity. Yuuri treasured the feeling.

"So", said Josak conversationally. "Not been sleeping so well lately, I take it."

There wasn't any point in lying, although Yuuri resented the comment all the same. "Did Gwendal tell you to ask?" he said, and was a little taken aback at the bitterness he heard in his own voice.

"I haven't seen Lord von Voltaire all day", Josak replied. Yuuri glanced at him a little suspiciously, but there was nothing in Josak's easy manner to indicate a lie. His hands continued to rub at the saddle in his lap. "Doesn't take much smarts to figure it out though. You leave the lamps in your room burning, don't you?"

Yuuri was forced to concede the point, and nodded reluctantly. "I don't like sleeping at night anymore", he found himself saying. "I have dreams, and I… I mean, it's just easier if I sleep in the day instead", he finished, flushing slightly.

"Fair enough."

They continued to work companionably for a while, before Yuuri asked a question of his own, feeling that Josak might actually listen.

"Josak, do you… do you know what happened?"

"Gwendal told me what Conrad told him, nothing more."

"You mean Conrad didn't say anything to you?" asked Yuuri, surprised.

Josak shook his head. "Conrad's always kept personal matters to himself – never gives much away with that favourite expression of his. But I expect you know that."

"Mm", Yuuri agreed. "I just thought… you know, since you've known him way longer, that he might have said something."

"The amount of time he's known someone has never meant much to Conrad. Once he's attached to someone… but no. Not a word."

"I see."

Another space of silence stretched out between them.

"Although something tells me", mentioned Josak several minutes later, as if no time at all had passed, "that Conrad didn't quite tell Gwendal everything."

Yuuri's movements stopped in their tracks. Josak still wasn't looking at him, but Yuuri knew that Josak was waiting for something. For Yuuri to get up and walk away, to run, to cry. Yuuri took a deep breath and did none of them.

"What makes you think that?"

"Oh, no solid reason. Just the feeling that it doesn't quite add up, that something was missing from Conrad's report. It's not like him to be so lax. There must have been a reason."

"He didn't", Yuuri admitted in a rush, and his voice shook. "Conrad didn't. I found out from Gwendal, accidentally, and that's why… he wouldn't listen, and then I couldn't tell him afterward because of what happened in his office, and then Conrad, he… he left…"

"Yuuri." Josak's voice was warm concern mixed with sympathy. "You do understand that Conrad didn't leave because of anything you did, right?"

Yuuri shook his head. "You don't know… you don't know what I did!"

"I could take a guess. Put two and two together."

Yuuri's hands began to shake along with his words. "You can't have guessed, or you would hate me too."

"I wouldn't hate you, Yuuri. Conrad wouldn't either."

"You can't know that!"

Josak took a moment to consider. "No", he eventually said, his words carefully measured. "I suppose I can't know for sure. But if you really believe that Conrad could possibly hate you, then you don't know him as well as I thought you did."

His tone was not one of accusation, but Yuuri found that he could not stop the words now that they had begun to fall from his mouth, heavy and ugly and filled with all the guilt that had been stored up inside him until now. Waiting to be let out. Waiting so that Yuuri might finally _explain_ himself.

Like a dam bursting, they flooded outwards, caught in the opening that Josak's casual manner, his non-threatening presence, had created. "-looked like him. He looked like Conrad!- had eyes just _like_ his, and I waited so long and Conrad never did anything but smile, never called me anything but Heika even though for _months_ I'd been- and I know I shouldn't have believed him, I was so _stupid!_ And afterwards, even though I wanted him to yell at me and hate me for it, he never even said a word, not a single one… and then when I learned what he had told Gwendal I knew he really must have come to hate me, because how couldn't he when I had done such a terrible thing and made him take the blame for it? Josak, I miss him! I miss Conrad so much, even though I don't have the right to, just like I wouldn't have had the right to stop him even if I knew he was leaving-" Yuuri choked to a stop, his ears ringing with regret.

Josak remained silent until the air had settled around them, and Yuuri's breathing had slowed to a calmer pace. He kept his voice as soft as he knew how. "It wasn't your fault, kiddo. You're young, and you're inexperienced, and you made a mistake. But you're not to blame for what happened after that, and regardless of how much you've tried to convince yourself otherwise, you didn't deserve it no matter how bad your mistake was. If Conrad knows anything about what happened, then it's that."

"But Conrad doesn't know, I never told him-"

"Conrad knows more than he lets on", Josak interrupted gently. "Come on, Yuuri, give the commander some credit. He can be oblivious about some things, but we both know there's an awful lot he doesn't say."

Yuuri gave a laugh that sounded almost like a sob, though his eyes stayed dry. "I do know that."

"Then you should also know that Conrad left for his own reasons, and not for the ones you've invented."

"Then _why?_ Why did he leave without telling me? Before I could work up the courage to even speak to him again?" Yuuri was pleading, desperate, willing Josak to give him an answer he could believe.

But Josak shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he feels as guilty as you do. Maybe he just needed some time to clear his head, get some air. Gossiping maids around here, you know." That wrung a wobbly smile out of Yuuri, and Josak looked pleased.

"Josak… I want to believe that. But Conrad… he looked so angry that night, and I can't – not until I can talk to him again. And nobody knows where he went, or when he'll be back. How do I know that Conrad will come back at all, after I did something so… and after everything that's happened?"

Josak looked at him as though Yuuri really was stupid, then. "Where else would Conrad go, when you're still here?"

"Josak! What are you… what did Conrad…"

"I told you, Conrad didn't say anything. He never has. But it's my job to know things, remember? Of course he'll come back. You just need to be patient. And while you're waiting, you might think about how you can make it up to Conrad, if you really think you've wronged him so badly."

"There's nothing I could do that would make it up to him", Yuuri said miserably.

"Come on, kiddo, you know that's not true. And even if it were, do you think Conrad would want you to live like this for the rest of your life? The first step is self-forgiveness. Everything else – the apologies, the time spent trying to get things back to normal between you, whatever else – it can't come 'til afterwards."

Yuuri was still, his face pale. There was a speck, a tiny fleck, of something blossoming from somewhere inside him. It glowed, and it made him both excited and urgently afraid all at once.

Unconsciously, he pressed a hand to his chest. "Is that…" Yuuri swallowed. "Is that what you really think, Josak?"

"It's what I know. I've lived a lot longer than you have, Yuuri. Although you wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me, of course." He flashed a rakish grin.

"I…" Yuuri stood up, feeling somehow dazed.

"Hey. Are you alright?"

"Yes, I… Josak. I have to go. Sorry, I have to go now, I… I'll help finish the oiling another time, okay?"

Josak only had time to nod before Yuuri was suddenly running, tearing across the castle grounds in his haste to be alone, to shield the idea lying vulnerable and still-burgeoning in his mind. His heart pounded with terror at his audacity. Terror, and hope. He was beginning to know now what it was he had to do, if only he had the courage to do it.

That night, after finishing off the final stack of paperwork for the day, Yuuri made his way not to his own bedchamber, but to someone else's.

He fell asleep there, clutching his hope in his hand and breathing in the lingering scent of Conrad.

* * *

_A slightly longer chapter this time around, although hopefully not too tedious. At the moment, it looks like there will be one more chapter to come as well as a (possibly shorter) epilogue for this fic. I'll do my best to have the next part written and posted up within a couple of weeks._


	5. Chapter 5

Yuuri's patience was stretched to its limits over the next few days. The week came and went, and still there was no sign of Conrad.

He resisted the urge to steal out from the castle and find Conrad himself after his talk with Josak. Although the strong sensation of guilt, the sense that he had betrayed both Conrad as well as Yuuri's own feelings for him, was still churning about inside him, it was now paired with a kind of urgency. He wanted to explain everything to Conrad, to make it clear why he had acted the way he had. He wanted to apologise, to make Conrad see that Yuuri took full responsibility for what had happened. But no matter how much he wanted these things, he also knew that even if somehow managed to sneak out of the castle without anyone knowing, the likelihood of somehow stumbling upon Conrad was almost non-existent. He and Conrad had shared a bond in the past that had allowed Conrad to instinctively be guided towards Yuuri whenever he was in danger, it was true, and sometimes vice versa. But the difference this time was that Conrad most likely did not want to be found, or else he would have already come home. And even assuming that Yuuri did manage to miraculously find him, and without getting into any trouble along the way, Conrad would not be happy with him. To intentionally put himself in danger like that – to ride out alone, without anyone knowing where he had gone – would not be taken well by Conrad, or by anyone else for that matter. No, he would have to wait, and have faith that Conrad would return on his own like Josak had promised he would. Yuuri needed to trust him.

In a way, however, it was probably a good thing that Conrad had not found his way back just yet. Yuuri fully intended to explain it all to Conrad when he did, however painful and embarrassing that might be. But before he could do that with a clear conscience, he needed to talk to Wolfram.

They hadn't spoken much since Yuuri's own return. Or, more accurately, Yuuri had hardly spoken to Wolfram, and Wolfram had tried to speak to Yuuri but had given up after being greeted only with a thick wall of silence. Yuuri's realisation that this was so did not make his decision any easier. Wolfram would quite rightly be furious with him, and Yuuri had never been anything but awkward when it came to matters of the heart. But it needed to be done – Wolfram, he knew, deserved better.

He found Wolfram at work painting, the windows open as wide as they could go in order to alleviate the worst of the smell.

"Yuuri!"

Wolfram looked a little shocked. As well he might, Yuuri thought with another stab of remorse. How long had it been since he himself had willingly sought out company, any company? The past weeks may have melded seamlessly together for him, but for everyone else, it had no doubt been a disturbing thing for Yuuri to have withdrawn so completely into himself for so long.

"Wolfram… can we talk?"

Yuuri saw a shadow pass over Wolfram's face at these words. The blonde nodded stiffly. "Just let me finish up here first."

Yuuri waited quietly, watching Wolfram place a few more brush strokes on the canvas and probably buying time in order to collect his thoughts. Yuuri couldn't see what Wolfram was painting, and so examined Wolfram as unobtrusively as he could instead.

Wolfram's face was carefully blank, though his eyes shone with emotion. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, and could not quite manage to repress whatever emotion he was feeling now – although it came to Yuuri suddenly that Wolfram had changed over the last while. The Wolfram he had known would have found it impossible not to show, either vocally or at the very least in his body language and expression, whatever emotion was at the surface. He had been impatient, brash, assertive. And Wolfram was still all of these things, but had tempered his natural instincts with something else – something Yuuri couldn't quite put his finger on just yet.

Like Yuuri, Wolfram had grown.

Now Wolfram was cleaning up, removing his paint smock and wiping his fingers free of specks of colour. The sun streaming through the windows turned his hair to gold as he glanced at Yuuri.

"If you want to say something, I'm listening."

His voice was low-pitched and angry, although Yuuri knew that Wolfram wasn't really angry – or at least, not yet – but was covering his confusion and uncertainty with irritation. That much, at least, was familiar.

"I guess… I just wanted to apologise. For hurting you that night, when… but more than that, for hurting you by not saying anything. I wasn't thinking straight, not once since I got back, and I know I made you and everyone else worry. Wolfram, I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean any of it."

Wolfram didn't say anything, although Yuuri took his annoyed huff to mean that his apology had been heard, if not exactly accepted. As Wolfram continued to look at him though, silent and unblinking, Yuuri became aware that Wolfram was waiting for something else. He shuffled his feet, knowing what he had to say yet reluctant to speak further, aware that it would hurt Wolfram even more.

"Wimp. If you've got something to say then just say it."

"Wolfram…"

"It's about Conrad isn't it?"

Yuuri struggled for the right words. "I-"

"-No", Wolfram interrupted, correcting himself. It's not _about_ Conrad at all. It _is_ Conrad."

He hadn't been expecting Wolfram to put it so succinctly.

As Yuuri gaped unintelligently, Wolfram gave a derisive snort and tossed his head. "Don't be so dense, everyone knows about it. Everyone with half a brain, anyway."

The accusation was clear. "I- but you- Conrad and I haven't… we're not…"

"Obviously, or you wouldn't be in this mess to begin with. You're probably the only one around here who _didn't_ know about it until now", Wolfram snapped.

"But then- why didn't you say anything? Yell at me or call me cheater like you always do or…?"

"Because if you had cheated, I would've known about it! I almost wish you had – at least then nobody would have had to put up with your complete stupidity!" Wolfram had finally raised his voice, and the sound echoed from the high ceiling, bouncing back harshly to Yuuri.

"Wolfram, I'm… I'm sorry-"

"Of course you're sorry _now_! You're _always_ sorry, but only after it's too late to do a damn thing about it! Why do you think people are always telling you to think before you act for a change?"

Yuuri knew this to be true. With no defence against the fact, he could only stare wordlessly at the floor. He waited for Wolfram to yell at him some more, to punch him, to blast a fireball at him and order him out of his sight.

And waited.

He heard Wolfram sigh. Yuuri looked up, surprised to see that Wolfram now looked more exasperated than angry.

"You love him, don't you?"

Dumbfounded, Yuuri simply nodded unthinkingly, too shocked to do otherwise. He had never admitted it to anyone before, and had he ever considered admitting it before now, he would never have thought that it would be Wolfram to whom he first did so.

Wolfram was silent, assessing him. Yuuri was still having trouble taking it all in by the time Wolfram spoke again. "Fine", he spat. "Leave it to me, you'll only mess things up again if you try to do anything. I'll do what needs to be done, although don't blame _me_ if Gwendal loses his temper. Again."

Yuuri felt like the conversation had been carried out by someone else, so surreal did it feel, even as he breathed a sigh of relief at how easy Wolfram had made it for him. He knew he didn't deserve it.

"Don't go thinking I'm not still angry with you. If you weren't so naturally stupid, you'd have my sword at your throat by now."

"I know. Wolfram… thank you. For everything." There was a tight lump in Yuuri's throat, and a prickling behind his eyelids. "I really am sorry."

"If you even think about crying, you'll be even more sorry", Wolfram warned him, and his voice was a little higher than before. "Now go away and do something useful before I change my mind about the sword."

Yuuri took the hint, and didn't look back as the door closed behind him. He made sure to walk away quickly, so that he could say with all honesty later on that he had not heard any sounds coming from the room after Yuuri had gone.

In the wake of what had occurred between him and Wolfram, Yuuri could not settle to anything. Paperwork did not distract him enough, and he spent a lot of time in Conrad's room even during the day. Coming to a full understanding of what it was that he felt for Conrad and actually saying it out loud were two very different things, and Yuuri attempted the writing of more than one letter before concluding that there were better ways of doing it.

And so he scrawled his thoughts, inelegant and disordered as they were, on tiny scraps of parchment as they came to him, and hid them in Conrad's room. In doing so Yuuri found that, after all, what he had to say one moment could be fitted neatly between the pages of a book, or beneath the leather baseball glove on the shelf the next, or behind the small mirror inside the door of the wardrobe. He wrote in Japanese and then, more hesitantly, in Demon script. His handwriting was neither bold nor refined, but it was legible. _I'm sorry_ found its way to the edge of the windowsill hidden by the curtain. _I love you_ was placed up on the highest shelf where Yuuri could only reach if he stood on his toes to do it. _I miss you_ was squirreled away beneath the bright yellow rubber duck on the lowest shelf. _Come home soon_. He whispered it to the empty room, and hoped it would be enough to see Conrad safely back.

At night, Yuuri continued to rest there, uncaring as to what anyone else would think if they knew and wondering what Conrad would say if he did. But whether it was because of what Josak had said to him, or because he had managed to apologise properly to Wolfram even if Wolfram hadn't entirely forgiven him just yet, Yuuri slept the better for it.

And, three nights after this, the long dry spell was finally broken, and it rained for the first time in weeks.

Three nights after this, Conrad finally came home.

* * *

Yuuri was dreaming.

He knew he was deeply asleep and dreaming and not awake because Conrad was there – not doing anything, just sitting quietly and unmoving beside him and simply looking at him, his face expressionless. It was not like in Yuuri's other dreams about Conrad, where the soldier was doing things other than just sitting there – but because Yuuri had never seen, and would probably never see, Conrad in any other state than perfect save for on the battlefield, Yuuri did not doubt that what he saw now could be anything but a dream.

Conrad's uniform had streaks of dirt on it, faint but still obvious to Yuuri, since Conrad's uniform was never less than immaculate. But there they were – dark smudges here and there, what looked like a grass stain or two marking the fabric, flecks of mud still clinging to his boots. His hair was windswept, and damp from the rain. Small strands of it were still wet enough that they cling to Conrad's forehead. In the light of the flickering candle that had not quite yet spluttered out, Yuuri could see that even Conrad's face was not quite free from the vestiges of his journey, and was marked with specks of dirt. Yuuri almost smiled to see this other side of Conrad – a side that Conrad, in the real world, would never have allowed Yuuri to see.

"Conrad." Yuuri voice crept sleepily from his mouth as Conrad shifted imperceptivity on his chair next to the bed. Conrad's eyes were dark and unreadable, and Yuuri hesitated before reminding himself that this was not actually happening, that Conrad was not really here.

Knowing this, he allowed himself to speak selfishly. "Don't leave again", he pleaded, and tentatively reached out a hand.

For one, terrible moment, his hand was met with only air. Then it was firmly grasped in a larger one – a hand that was cool and calloused and had dirt under the fingernails.

Even in his most tangible and alluring of dreams, Conrad had never been more attractive.

This was Yuuri's final thought as his eyes closed again. If Conrad made any reply to his request, Yuuri did not remember hearing it.

But in the morning, the chair was still there, and the candle had been lined up next to the waxy stumps of the rest that Yuuri had burned, one for each night that had passed in Conrad's bedchamber.

_I'll still be here._

The note, penned in Conrad's unmistakable flowing script, was waiting for him, neatly folded where Conrad had been sitting.

* * *

Yuuri paced outside a closed door. From within, Yuuri could hear Gwendal speaking in low, measured tones to Conrad.

Yuuri couldn't make out what Gwendal was saying, or the even quieter replies that Conrad gave him, and didn't attempt to make out any of the words. While in the past he might have been more curious, Yuuri now found that he would rather not know. It was late morning, and Yuuri had woken up to find that his dream had not been a dream after all, and he thought his heart might leap from his chest if it decided to beat any louder. He couldn't decide whether to be mortified or elated that, after reading Conrad's note, a hurried search had resulted in the knowledge that every single one of his own notes had vanished – even the one behind the mirror.

Yuuri hadn't thought it was possible for a single human body to hold so much nervousness all at once. His fingers were tingling with it, and he wasn't sure if he had gone very red or very white. His breath came in strangled half-gasps as though he had been running, although Yuuri's feet felt rooted to the floor.

He was still standing in the exact same spot when the door opened. Gwendal looked only half-surprised to see Yuuri there. The older demon's face showed tiredness, but little else that Yuuri could make out, as he took in Yuuri's state of dread with a practiced glance.

"I see you know that Conrad's back", he said dryly.

Yuuri nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and Gwendal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

"Well. He's all yours." There was a hint of irony beneath the tone of annoyance, and Yuuri's eyes widened.

"Gwendal, what-" But Gwendal was already walking away, and did not look back at Yuuri's query.

He had left the door open. From beyond it, Yuuri could hear footsteps, although the person inside was still out of sight. Yuuri swallowed, and pushed open the door further.

Conrad was standing by the window. Yuuri squinted, and Conrad moved so that his back blocked the sun from Yuuri's eyes. His face was smooth and unreadable, his eyes just as dark as they had been when he had been watching Yuuri several hours ago.

"It's so good to see you again, Conrad." Yuuri could not disguise the depth of feeling with which he spoke the words.

Conrad shifted. "Yuuri, I-"

"-No! Wait, Conrad, please just wait. There's a lot of things I have to tell you, even if… will you listen?"

"… Of course."

Conrad gave nothing away, standing there in his once-more spotless uniform, not a hair out of place. He was perfectly still, waiting for Yuuri to speak, his expression an impassive mask. Yuuri had no way of telling what Conrad was thinking, or what his feelings towards him were. He didn't know how much Conrad knew, or what it was that the soldier was expecting. He could not be sure that Conrad would accept his apology and explanation, let alone accept anything else that Yuuri had to say.

Yuuri felt the damp of his palms and the frenzied thumping in his chest, the strain of his breath as it sought to keep up with his heart.

He opened his mouth, and he told Conrad everything.

* * *

_Happy New Year, everyone, and thank you continuing to read on! This is the final proper chapter in this fic, although there is an epilogue still to come. It will probably be smutty (although not overly explicit). Everyone who doesn't like some yaoi action with their plot, feel free to exit stage left and pretend that this is the end of the story. To everyone else… hopefully I will be posting up that epilogue within the next couple of weeks. :)_


	6. Epilogue

_The final instalment to the fic. Again, thank you all for reading this far with me – this one's certainly come a long way from what was originally a vague one-shot idea. I hope everyone's enjoyed it, and I will of course be writing more of my favourite pairing in the future. _

_

* * *

_

It was raining again – a light, warm drizzle that smelt of damp earth and fresh soil. Yuuri shivered, fear and anticipation mixed into one.

Conrad saw this as he closed the door behind them. "Yuuri. We don't have to do this now – there's no need to rush anything. I can wait. _We_ can wait."

Yuuri lowered his eyes. "I'm scared that the longer I wait, the more afraid I'll be", he admitted. "I want this, Conrad – I do. It's just, I don't think I'll ever stop being… until you and I, you know…"

"Then please remember, Yuuri. There's nothing I'd do if you didn't want it as well. If there was something you didn't like, something that made you feel… threatened, or more afraid than you need to be, no matter what it was…" Conrad spoke softly as his eyes searched Yuuri's face in an attempt to gauge Yuuri's own resolve, and to measure how much of the tension that gripped him was true unease.

Yuuri made himself meet Conrad's gaze. Long before Kasimir, he had dreamt about Conrad, and woken from these dreams with his heartbeat throbbing in his ears and a sensation of emptiness pulsing through his body. Long before Kasimir, Yuuri had acknowledged his desire – had gone on desiring even when he had thought that those feelings would never be reciprocated. Above all, he did not want his own fear over what had happened to get between him and Conrad now, when he had finally discovered that Conrad felt the same way.

"I trust you, Conrad."

And it was true – he had never trusted anyone more. Yuuri felt another tremor run though him as, little by little, they began to undress each other, Conrad gentle, Yuuri fumbling a bit in his nervousness. Conrad did not seem to be in any hurry, and stopped to touch the different parts of Yuuri's skin as they were gradually exposed to the night. He touched his lips to Yuuri's shoulder, and ran his fingers up the slight curvature of Yuuri's back as though it were hallowed ground. He twined Yuuri's fingers between his own as he kissed Yuuri's neck, like he wanted to pull Yuuri closer to him than he already was. Conrad spoke Yuuri's name for the sole reason of being able to say it, as articles of clothing were one by one abandoned on the floor.

Yuuri had bathed naked with Conrad before and had thought nothing of it. Undressing himself in front of, and being undressed by Conrad, was different. His own skin felt alien to him, as though it belonged to someone else.

The thought jolted a memory, and Yuuri froze in half-remembered fright. "Conrad?"

Conrad ceased all movement at once. "Yes?"

"Will it… will it hurt?" Yuuri could have kicked himself as the question slipped out, tremulous and baring every inch of his naive inexperience.

But Conrad didn't laugh. His lips only curved gently upwards, and he drew Yuuri closer still. "Not tonight", he said.

The moment passed, and Yuuri relaxed again as much as he was able. His skin was warming under Conrad's touch, humming to life each time Conrad's fingers or mouth passed over it. He wasn't sure which one of them was drifting the other in the vague direction of the bed, finding himself inexplicably caught up in this dance of hands and lips and tongue. He reached up to trace with his fingertips, curious as a child, the ridge of Conrad's collarbone, the angles of his chest.

His legs gave way as the bed suddenly appeared under him, solid and welcoming. Conrad was entirely naked on top of him, and Yuuri felt the weight of him pressing down, not too hard, kissing him again in a way this time that made Yuuri gasp and jump a little- and then Yuuri's pants, already undone, were being peeled slowly off.

It took Yuuri a moment to react. To remember, mortification flooding over him like a bucket of cold water, what he was wearing underneath. It was all very well to wear Shin Makoku's customary underwear during the course of the day – Yuuri had gotten used to it over the years, and usually didn't think twice about it. It was quite another thing to be seen in them by someone like Conrad – someone who was _looking_, and who made Yuuri all too aware of what he looked like in comparison. Conrad was tall and muscular yet still somehow slender, and had skin of a dusky golden-brown. Yuuri saw how he would look, side by side with such a man – small and slight and everything else that Conrad was not. And he knew what Conrad would see, looking at Yuuri so intently – what it was that Yuuri felt himself, even as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. Yuuri lay flat on his back, and the flimsy piece of fabric, pressed flush to his skin, lay dark and obvious and strained against him.

"_Yuuri._" Conrad's voice, the stunned reverence in it, like _he_ was the lucky one, made Yuuri cautiously open his eyes again. "You are so beautiful."

"Conrad…" Yuuri's cheeks flamed. Conrad was still moving so slowly, so calmly. He looked completely composed. But he had told Yuuri he was beautiful, and his eyes, when Yuuri could bring himself to meet them again, looked like they wanted to devour him.

"Trust me", Conrad said quietly, perhaps mistaking Yuuri's previous embarrassment, or his understanding of the depth of Conrad's feelings, for more fear. He kissed Yuuri again, and as he did so his fingers, seemingly by coincidence, skimmed lightly over Yuuri's thighs.

Yuuri's reaction was instantaneous. He heard himself moan into Conrad's mouth, his back arching upwards of its own accord. Unconsciously, his grip on the sheets tightened. What he was beginning to feel now was a pale imitation compared to any of his earlier imaginings, when he had only imagined Conrad's touch on him. What Conrad was awakening in him now didn't have a name – only a sound, or a thousand different sounds, that got stuck in Yuuri's chest and could only be released when Conrad did _this_ again, or _that_, and made Yuuri thrust against Conrad almost impatiently and mouth his name. And when the self-consciousness had fallen from him entirely, when Yuuri didn't care what he looked like compared to Conrad anymore so long as Conrad just kept stroking him, he found Conrad's hands and placed them on either side of his own hips, pushing down so that they could remove Yuuri's one remaining article of clothing together.

Yuuri didn't know when Conrad's touches turned from quietly even to something more insistent, something that matched the intensity of his gaze. He wasn't sure at which point he himself began to match Conrad's pace, moving against the heat of Conrad's body to keep up with the speed of whatever was fizzling and bubbling up and up and up. It rippled and swelled and circled outwards in ever-enlarging spirals until Yuuri felt he would burst with it. But Conrad's name was on his lips again as it finally shuddered its release, and it was like sinking into wakefulness.

Only this time, Yuuri didn't feel empty.

The rain was pouring now, muffling the sounds of the world protectively within it, and as he opened his eyes to stare in wonder at Conrad, Yuuri felt whole.


End file.
